


Hell Hath No Torture Like Physical Education

by ThePenguinOfDeath



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bullying, Geeks, Jock!Dean, Jocks, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Pre-Relationship, Sports, dodgeball - Freeform, nerd!Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 11:21:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3379661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePenguinOfDeath/pseuds/ThePenguinOfDeath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is about to face the gaping mouth of hell - a physical education class where they're playing dodgeball. Not only that, but notorious jock Dean Winchester has, for some reason, chosen him for his team.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hell Hath No Torture Like Physical Education

**Author's Note:**

> This started off vaguely based off a tumblr prompt then took on a life of its own and now barely resembles the prompt. I don't know what happened, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Castiel felt like he was about to throw up.

To his left, a group of jocks were doing stretches and comparing their ridiculously large muscles. To his right, a giggly group of girls were admiring the jocks, practically swooning whenever one so much as looked at them. He felt trapped – caught between the social elite in an activity reserved for the deepest bowels of hell.

Physical Education.

Dressed in his brother Michael’s too-large gymwear, Castiel had never felt more self-conscious. He didn’t belong here. He belonged in the library, hidden away between the stacks of books, glasses perched on his nose like a barrier between himself and the world. For the past two years he had gotten away with it as well – chronic back problems brought on from bad posture and lugging a heavy rucksack of books to and from school every day. However, the new teacher had taken one look at his sick note and laughed in his face.

“Back problems? Ha! Some good old exercise’ll do more good for that than slouching over a desk.”

So here Castiel was, trying to shrink into the background so that no-one would pick him for their team. Maybe if he wasn’t picked, he could slip out and go back to the library...

A whistle blew piercingly, startling Castiel from his thoughts. He almost groaned aloud at the sight of the teacher, dodgeballs tucked under one arm. There was no way that they could be playing dodgeball. Castiel was a sitting duck. At least three quarters of the people in here hated him, and he was so clumsy he’d probably trip into their throws instead of out the way.

“Alright! For those who haven’t met me yet, I’m Coach Finnegan, the new baseball coach here. This term, I’m also responsible for teaching you lot. Rather than try an organised sport on the first lesson, I thought I’d watch you all play dodgeball so I can gauge your athletic ability.”

Castiel wished he could sink into a puddle on the floor.

“You there!” Coach Finnegan pointed at one of the jocks. “What’s your name?”

“Winchester, sir. Dean Winchester.”

Castiel almost snorted. He didn’t think he’d ever heard the ‘legendary’ Dean Winchester speak that politely in his life. It figured that the jock-to-end-all-jocks was only polite to the sports coaches. He clearly wanted to suck up so he’d be promoted to captain of the baseball team.

Not that Castiel knew Dean at all, of course. He only knew his reputation. But really, that reputation was enough for anyone.

“You’re the first team captain, Winchester. I assume you know how to play dodgeball.”

Dean nodded.

“Good. You, with the red hair!” To Castiel’s surprise, Coach pointed to his sister Anna. Then again, maybe he ought not to be surprised – his twin was a cheerleader and a born competitor, so dodgeball was probably her element. Castiel had never understood how she could stand sports, or the jocks she regularly hung out with.

“Yes, Coach Finnegan?” Anna smiled and stepped forward, giving Dean a glance out of the corner of her eye.

Castiel sighed. Of course Anna had a crush on Dean – he was exactly her type. Muscles, athletics trophies and no noticeable brains or morals.

“Name?”

“Anael Milton, sir.”

“Michael’s sister?”

“Yes sir.”

“Your brother is an exceptionally fine baseball player. I hope you share some of his athletic skill. You can be the second team captain. Dean, you get first pick.”

Castiel braced himself. He really hoped he didn’t get picked. But knowing his luck, his sister would take pity on him and pick him so he wasn’t the last one chosen. Sometimes, his sister really was the worst.

“Gordon Walker.”

The dark skinned jock smirked and went to stand by Dean.

“Bela Talbot.”

The cheerleader swished her hair and gave Dean and Gordon winks as she sauntered over to Anna.

The choosing continued in this vein for a while, Dean picking all the jocks and Anna picking all the cheerleaders. Dean started to pick the slower, stronger kids remaining whilst Anna picked the small, wiry ones. Castiel almost didn’t hear when his name was finally called.

“Castiel Milton.”

Castiel blinked, then blinked again. The voice was wrong. There was no way...

It wasn’t Anna who had chosen him. It was Dean. Dean Winchester, who by all rights should have scorned Castiel’s existence and taken great delight in pelting him with dodgeballs.

With the utmost reluctance, and no small measure of fear, Castiel trudged over to Dean’s team and stood on the edge. He noticed Anna giving him a considering look.

“Oh, look. The mighty Castiel Milton has deigned to grace us with his presence.” Abaddon, champion female boxer of Arizona the past three years running in her age category, drawled.

Castiel tried to shrink out of sight.

“Shut it!” Dean hissed.

The quiet order surprised Castiel. Why would Dean try to stick up for him? But Abaddon listened, turning away with a smirk, and Castiel found himself grateful to be left alone.

Once everyone had been chosen, the teams fell into huddles to start strategising. Castiel wished he was one the same team as Garth, just so he had one friend here, but all of his friends either skipped PE entirely (Chuck) or were on Anna’s team. He was the only one on Dean’s.

“Alright, so as you may have noticed, I’ve gone for strength over agility. That’s not to say lots of you guys aren’t agile, but we pack a hell of a lot more punch than Anna’s team of girls and midgets.”

A few people snorted. Castiel scowled. How dare he? What an unbelievably sexist, demeaning comment.

“So if a ball comes at you, don’t move away, catch it. Catch them out. Then pelt it back as hard as you fucking can. Got it?”

A cheer went up. Castiel resisted the urge to run away or punch Dean in the face.

“Gordon, Alastair, I need you two to stay in right until the end. Do not get out at all costs. You’re our primary weapons, alongside me. Abaddon, you’re our secret. Don’t show off how well you can throw as well as punch until near the end so they don’t aim for you.”

Was Dean really going to go through every team member with a personal strategy? It was a flipping dodgeball game for goodness sake, Castiel really didn’t think that was necessary.

“Jake, I want you protecting Gordon and Alastair. I know you’re easily as good, but I need one of you as a ‘sacrifice’. If you get out, you’ll always be the first I choose to bring back in.”

Jake scowled but nodded. Castiel almost flinched at his imposing stare. Jake Talley was even more intimidating than Dean.

“The rest of you, just stay out of the way and do your job. It’s dodgeball.”

The whistle blew, and the teams started to get into position.

Castiel hid himself behind Jo Harvelle and Adam Milligan. He was surprised Adam was on his team – reputedly, Adam and Dean hated each other – but then Castiel was always behind on school gossip. He didn’t particularly care about the dramas of jocks.

The whistle blew again, and Castiel stopped trying to think in a desperate aim not to panic.

Balls flew everywhere. Castiel almost tripped over his own feet trying to scramble out of the way of a particularly hard throw, and refused to pick the ball up when it landed – he just glared at it until Adam picked it up and pelted it back. In a way, he wanted to get out so he wouldn’t have to deal with this anymore, but he also didn’t want to be hit.

Another ball soared towards Castiel and he stepped out of the way, almost careening into Dean.

“Watch where you’re going!” Dean snapped.

Castiel felt anger surge up inside him but he tamped it down. Dean was three times his size, an argument with him would never end well.

Someone screamed to Castiel’s left, and he looked over, just in time for a ball to slam into his face.

The force knocked Castiel backwards, landing heavily on his arse. His glasses flew off his face and he prayed that they hadn’t cracked. Pain blossomed all down his right cheek and he fought the urge to cry.

“Get up, Milton!” Someone yelled.

Castiel’s world had gone blurry – mostly because of his lost glasses but possibly because of tears as well. He fumbled around for his glasses, hoping that no-one had stood on them.

“For fuck’s sake.” Someone grimaced, before Castiel felt someone’s hands grab his torso and pull him up.

“Get off me!” He yelled, twisting away. “I can’t see! Leave me alone!”

Castiel was fairly certain there were tears in his eyes at this point. The pain in his cheek was getting worse.

“You’re in the middle of the pitch! You’re in the way!”

Castiel didn’t know how he knew the culprit was Dean Winchester, but he was certain. The voice was distinctive.

“This isn’t the Olympics, Winchester! Your little game is not the end of the world! Now, can someone please help me find my glasses so you can get back to your little displays of so-called masculinity and I can get on with my life!”

For a moment, there was silence. Even the sound of balls smacking into the floor ceased.

“Well, I’m sorry for making sure that no-one tripped over you and injured you anymore.” Dean exclaimed sarcastically. “Here are your sodding glasses. Now go back to your books so you don’t have to be exposed to human decency again.”

Wait.

Castiel felt a pair of glasses being pushed into his hand, and he struggled to put them on, blinking the moisture from his eyes. Had he read the situation incorrectly?

He had assumed, quite honestly, that Dean just wanted him out of the way so he could continue the game. But had Dean been, in his own way, trying to help?

Confused, Castiel glanced at Dean as he ambled off the pitch, trying to ignore the burning in his cheek. But Dean’s full attention was now back on the game, his cheeks slightly flushed from exertion.

Castiel sat at the side of the hall, several seats from everyone else. He noticed a few people giving him glares and closed his eyes to block them out. With any luck, he wouldn’t be called upon to play again and could just sit here until the end.

Sure enough, after Castiel had recited all of the square numbers up to 79 squared (6241) the whistle blew to announce the end of the game.

“Alright, you lot, that’s the end of the period. Overall you were more disappointing than I hoped. Go and get changed, I’ll see some of you after school for baseball tryouts.”

Relieved, Castiel shuffled towards the changing rooms, hoping the ball hadn’t left a bruise.

“Hey, Castiel! Can I talk to you?”

Castiel glanced around. Why would Dean Winchester want to talk now?

“Sorry, I really have to get to the library.” He muttered.

“Just for a minute? Please?”

Castiel sighed.

 

“Fine. One minute.” He narrowly resisted the urge to count out loud.

“Ok. Look, I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you earlier. It was rude. I didn’t realise how much you couldn’t see without your glasses.” Dean sounded earnest, and his green eyes looked sincere.

Still, Castiel didn’t really have time for the Dean Winchesters of the world.

“Apology accepted. We’re not friends, there would be no reason for you to know that I’m almost blind. May I please go now?”

Dean fidgeted.

“Look, I get that we’re not really friends. But that doesn’t have to make us enemies, you know?”

“Fine. Stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours. No animosity.” Castiel turned to leave.

“I don’t get you!” Dean exclaimed.

Castiel turned back around. “I don’t need you to ‘get’ me, Winchester. I just need you to leave me in peace.”

“But what if that’s not what I want?”

“Oh, of course, you want to torment me-”

“No!” Dean looked like he was ready to tear his own hair out. “No! For fuck’s sake, Castiel, if anything I’d like us to be friends. Maybe more than friends. I like you, OK? I think you’re really interesting, and smart, and I’d like to get to know you better. But most of the time it’s like I don’t even exist. You go around with your elitist little group of friends, where anyone with below a 4.0 GPA is excluded, and do nothing but mock those who weren’t graced with the same academic abilities as you. Then you scorn others for being demeaning whilst being nothing but that yourself. Look, I think you’re a nice guy, and all I’ve been doing is trying to be friendly. As I said, I like you. But it’s high time you took a look at your morals and started practicing what you preach.”

Castiel stared. Dean looked shocked, as though he hadn’t expected all of that to pour out.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to rant. It’s been a long week. I’ll just leave you to go chill with your textbooks.”

“Wait.” The word was spoken quietly. Castiel wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to say this.

Dean paused.

“You’re... right. Sort of. I mean, my friends and I aren’t elitist, we just band together because everyone else makes fun of us for prioritising learning over sex and sports. But I’ve been acting very judgementally towards you in the way I often accuse others of acting towards myself. So. I’m sorry. That was unacceptable. I hope you can forgive me.”

“Already forgiven.” Dean smiled.

“But... that doesn’t make us friends.” Castiel tried to gather his words. “I don’t think we’d have anything in common. Your interests mainly lie in sports and cars and girls whereas mine are deep in theoretical physics. We wouldn’t have anything to say to each other.”

“Why not at least try to get to know me before deciding that?”

Castiel shook his head. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

He fled the room.

Deep inside, he tried to persuade himself that he was doing the right thing. But he couldn’t help but think he was just running away from something that was outside the little boxes he had tucked all his classmates into.

Or maybe, he was just running away from that beautiful shade of green that made up Dean’s eyes.


End file.
